modern poetry

the little white prayers
this is the arsenal
passing through huddled and ugly walls
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
were it not for that singular smell
little park that i pass through
i gazed upon the glorious sky
softly weeping
musing, between the sunset and the dark
once this soft turf
roses and gold
as evening falls
not from the whole wide world
the stars fell from heaven